


because the night belongs to lovers

by theworldunseen



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1970s, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, F/M, M/M, Multi, POV Multiple, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Smut, Threesome - F/M/M, hopefully, there's only one bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:07:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29387460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theworldunseen/pseuds/theworldunseen
Summary: When Jaime Lannister and Jon Snow ask Brienne Tarth to record a duet with their band, The Kings, she can't say no. When she finds herself falling for both of them, she finds the courage to say yes.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, Jaime Lannister/Jon Snow/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 48
Kudos: 93
Collections: The Exchange that was Promised: Jaime x Brienne Smut Swap 2021





	because the night belongs to lovers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [winterkill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterkill/gifts).



> hello!!! 
> 
> when i got matched with winterkill i sort of freaked out, because i love and admire your work so much and hope this is the beginning of us being friends, in a fun, no pressure way. winterkill asked for jaime/brienne/jon, and after a lot of brainstorming I ended up here. The primary inspiration here is Taylor Jenkins Reid's novel "Daisy Jones & The Six," which itself was inspired by Fleetwood Mac. A minor inspiration was The Killers' "Mr. Brightside." 
> 
> winterkill asked for porn with feelings, which means I had to get enough plot in here to get to the feelings. Hopefully this is not a disappointment.
> 
> thank you to [redacted] for emotional support. title comes from the song written by patti smith and bruce springsteen, and popularized by patti.

“You want me to sing a duet with you?” Brienne asked. This was all happening very fast. After her most recent show at the Mockingbird — a small, dumpy bar where she could reliably attract a crowd for her sharp acoustic songs — she’d waved at a handful of fans and hurried over to the bar to get a ginger ale. She’d barely had a sip when two very handsome men had cornered her. 

“I want you to help us write a duet, and  _ then _ you’ll sing it with me,” the tall one said. Well, not as tall as Brienne, but still pretty tall. His blonde, curly hair hit his shoulders, and the front was tied back with some sort of floral scarf. He wore an oversized maroon shirt — maybe technically a blouse? — that had half the buttons undone. He was trying hard to be very sexy, and Brienne resented that it was working on her. 

“What does he do?” she asked, gesturing toward the man’s friend. The other man was as dark and broody as his friend was golden. Brienne resented that she found him attractive, too. 

“Jon plays bass,” the blonde said as the man — Jon — said, “I play bass.”

“I’m Jaime by the way,” Mr. Floral Headband said, holding out his hand. She shook it, then Jon’s.

“Brienne.”

“We know,” Jon said with a smirk that had no sharp edges. “We’re big fans. Jaime put your song on a cassette so he can listen to it on the tour bus.”

_ Tour bus. _ Now that was interesting. 

“You’re a real band then?” she asked. Jaime pouted, but Jon laughed.

“Yeah,” Jon said. “I suppose this one should should have led with that.” He reached into the large pocket of his denim jacket and pulled out a record. “This is our first album.” 

He handed it to Brienne.

She flipped it over. A major record label had released it. “The Kings,” she read aloud. “Have I heard of you?”

“Yes,” Jaime said.

“Maybe,” Jon admitted with a shrug. Jaime elbowed him. “Probably.”

“You might have heard our song, ‘Starlit Nights,’” Jaime said. He seemed a little nervous, which made him even more attractive. Brienne took a long sip of her ginger ale.

“No,” she said. “I don’t think so.”

“It goes like this,” Jon said, humming a little of the guitar line.

“Not ringing any bells,” Brienne said. Jaime’s shoulders were climbing up to his ears.

“And the chorus goes,” — Jaime sang — “‘I waaaaant all your starlit nights, every one, baby.’”

“And then the guitar is like, doo doo daaaaah, it’s really shimmery,” Jon added, pantomiming the guitar in the air.

“And then I go, ‘I waaaaaaant youuuuuu.’”

Brienne couldn’t hold in her laugh anymore. The two men stopped, a little sheepish. 

“I know the song, it’s good,” she said. “Is the band just the two of you?”

Jon shook his head. “We have a drummer, Sandor, and Margaery on keys. You’ll love them.” 

Brienne eyed them warily. 

“But why do you want me?” she asked. 

“You’re incredible,” Jon said as Jaime said, “Who wouldn’t?” Brienne blushed. “You would take us to the next level,” Jaime added. 

Brienne looked down at her body. It had taken a lot of time to feel comfortable as she was, almost six and a half feet tall, broad as a lineman. Her friend Ellaria had spent hours helping her craft the persona that let Brienne take the stage with ease — tomboy-ish, with a sharp smear of red lipstick. Tonight she’d worn a pair of men’s jeans that Ellaria had distressed with one of her brother Gal’s old gym tee shirts that she was particularly fond of. She’d cut off the sleeves years ago. 

Brienne liked the way she looked, but her experience in music meant she knew that industry people did not. 

“Are you sure your label is going to be OK with someone like me on a single?”

Jon and Jaime, to their credit, quirked their heads in near unison, and Brienne found herself wanting to know everything about them.

“I just know I’m not the type of woman that people think of as ‘marketable,’” she added, feeling heat in the tips of her ears. This was how the industry had talked about her, but it felt gross to repeat their words. 

Jaime shrugged and Jon shook his head. 

“We’ll take care of them,” Jaime said, like none of it mattered. Brienne found she believed. “Just listen to the album, and then you can give us a call if you want to work together and —”

“No,” Brienne interrupted. Their faces fell. “I don’t need to listen to the album. I’ll do it.”

—

Working with Brienne was a dream, Jon thought. She was so smart, had incredible instincts, and could actually rein Jaime in when he went off on one of his tangents.

Jon loved Jaime, had since he was a kid and Jaime was the cool teen who lived next door (in retrospect, Jaime was four years older, but it had felt like more). Jaime was the one who taught him to play guitar! Jon had been the first person Jaime asked to join The Kings when he decided to form a new band, after the one he’d had with his high school friends fell apart. 

But Jon sometimes felt off-balance with Jaime, like Jaime always had the upper hand. It was thrilling in a way that made Jon feel funny in the pit of his stomach, but it wasn’t sustainable. 

Brienne balanced it, somehow. Jaime was a little less smarmy. Jon was a little less dour. Brienne seemed surprised every time she laughed at something they did, and Jon found that he and Jaime couldn’t stop trying to draw the burst of sound out of her. 

One night they stayed up late writing, all of them sprawled on the couches in Jaime’s apartment. Sometime around one in the morning, they’d all gotten giggly. 

“How did you guys even find me?” Brienne asked, her feet on Jon’s lap, her head on Jaime’s. Jon traced the delicate bump of ankle bone with his pinky finger as soft as he could, hoping she didn’t notice. “It’s not like my songs are on the radio.”

“My sister Sansa brought me to one of your gigs,” Jon said. “And you just blew me away, so I started bringing Jaime to them. That was like winter last year?”

“Last year?” Brienne asked, disbelief in her voice. “You’ve been going to my shows for a year?”

“Yeah, though we dropped off when we were on tour,” Jaime said. “But that’s when I decided we should sing a duet.” Jaime’s fingertips played with the edge of Brienne’s hair. She laid perfectly still under both their tender touches.

Jon hated when Jaime’s brash confidence was proved right, but in this case it definitely was. Jaime’s tenor and Brienne’s rough alto sounded incredible together. None of them had admitted it aloud, but this was definitely going to be the best song The Kings had ever released.

Brienne reached up to Jaime’s face and dragged her fingers across his chin, where he was sporting more than a little stubble. Jon looked away; it felt too intimate. Of course Brienne would want Jaime; everyone wanted Jaime. Jon wanted Jaime.

But he wanted Brienne, too. It was terrible.

Brienne kicked her feet in Jon’s lap, pulling him back to them. “Well I’m grateful you both saw something in me,” she said.

Jon was too.

—

Jaime felt protective of Brienne once they were in the recording studio. Brienne wasn’t like him — she was like Jon. Pure and noble. Fragile, underneath the armor she built for the world. He didn’t want this to be a bad memory for her. He knew she didn’t need protecting, that she would shake him off he caught in to him trying to. But he still wanted to try. 

His worries were for naught. Tyrion, Jaime’s brother and The Kings’ manager, loved Brienne. Margaery wouldn’t stop flirting with her, which brought the most delightful blush to Brienne’s cheeks. She instantly charmed their sound engineer, Addam, with her curious questions. And taciturn Sandor liked her because she wanted to get the work done and didn’t fuck around. Jon, he knew, was already smitten.

As was Jaime.

In truth, Jaime had been the very first time he’d seen her perform. Earlier that day, Jon had looked at him and said, “You’re coming to a gig with me tonight,” in that way he had, so serious Jaime knew he couldn’t say no to him. The moment Brienne walked out on stage in that smelly bar, in her ripped jeans and tank top with her acoustic guitar, Jaime knew she was special. When she ended her first song and smiled nervously at the crowd, who cheered, Jaime was pretty sure he was halfway in love with her.

As Jaime and the band had gone on tour, he realized he’d missed her, this person he didn’t even know but he’d gotten used to. When he confessed that to Jon late at night, he’d been the one to urge Jaime to talk to her. Jaime had spent a week thinking of an excuse.

And now Brienne was here, with them, recording a song that Jaime could already feel in his bones was going to be a hit. They’d finally settled on a name — “Catch On Fire.” 

Writing it with Jon and Brienne had been so fun and creative and inspiring that Jaime never wanted it to end. He wanted to spend every hour he could together with them, sharing ideas and collaborating, but also just hanging out, listening to music, talking. Since his mother had died when Jaime was just 11, he’d felt restless, like nowhere could ever be home. But sitting on his couch with Jon and Brienne had made him feel like he could finally settle in. 

Jaime sat on the couch behind where Addam and the assistant engineer, Peck, fiddled with the dials. Jon was next to him, tapping his hands on his thigh idly. Brienne was in the booth, looking nervous. She twisted the headset’s chord in her hand and worried her lip with her teeth. 

Jaime sat up on his knees and waved his arms back and forth.

“What are you doing?” Jon asked, sounding annoyed.

“Trying to get Brienne’s attention,” Jaime said. “She seems nervous.” Jon sat up then, too, and waved his hands. Brienne finally noticed them through the glass, and made a perplexed face. She mouthed something they couldn’t hear — “What are you doing?” Jaime thought it was.

He gave her a big thumbs up, and Jon mimicked him.

“You got this,” Jaime said, giving her a little shimmy. Jon started doing the monkey. Brienne laughed, loud enough that they could hear it. She gave them a small thumbs up back. 

“Alright, if we’re ready,” Addam asked, giving them all a severe look Jaime knew he didn’t really mean. Jaime saluted him. Jon sat down and Jaime plopped his bare feet in Jon’s lap. 

Addam spoke into the mic. “You ready, Brienne?” She gave another thumbs up.

And then she blew them all away.

— 

Tyrion had the bright idea of having Brienne open for the band on tour. That way they could perform “Catch On Fire” every night as the track slowly started to get radio play, hopefully helping build momentum for it.

Brienne loved life on the road. She had grown accustomed to her shows in the basement of Mockingbird’s for crowds that knew her. Introducing herself to an audience every night was a thrilling challenge, and she thrived on it.

But the highlight of every show was when she came out for the duet at the end of The Kings’ set. Jaime would always intro the song, asking the crowd to make noise for “our very special friend,” throwing in whatever honorific he thought of: “the smartest woman in the world,” “the bravest guitar player in the galaxy,” “the sexiest person on the planet.” That one had made her blush and Jon had winked at her as she ran out.

The crowd would go wild for the song, and it felt like with every performance, the fans had learned more and more of the words. 

The first time Brienne heard “Catch On Fire” on the radio, she and Margaery had been inside a gas station in the Westerlands, picking out snacks for the next leg of their drive. It played out of the small, tinny speakers inside the little mart.

“Oh my god!” Brienne had shrieked, dropping her bags of chips. Margaery’s face had lit up.

“It’s our song!” Margaery said. She dropped what she was holding and ran outside to the van. “Guys! It’s on the radio in here!”

Jon, Jaime and Sandor rushed inside and the gas station attendant had no idea what was going on as the five of them jumped up and down and danced and sang. Jaime took Brienne’s hand and spun her in circles and all she could think was how perfect this moment was, and how she never wanted to leave the Kings behind.

Brienne had never felt part of a group before. Even when she was performing and felt connected to the crowd, she still couldn’t shake the sense that she was singular and alone.

With The Kings, she belonged. She felt appreciated and wanted in ways she couldn’t hjave predicted. 

The problem was this journey had an end date. They liked her, but she wasn’t a member of The Kings. She didn’t think for a second that they’d ask her to join. It was painful to think about the end of the tour, which would be the end of her time with the band. With Jon. With Jaime.

At first she’d thought she couldn’t be more different than the two men, but over time she’d realized that their souls were made of the same stuff. Jon and Jaime were deadly serious about music. They were honorable and kind. They’d both experienced pain and grief, like her, but were still determined to snatch their pieces of joy from this life. 

And to be near them….sometimes Brienne thought she might combust. They were both so touchy – with each other and with her. Jaime would press his thigh against hers, or draw small circles on her arm while she told him a story. Jon was always seeking her out, throwing an arm around her back. She’d thought it was maybe just the way they were, but they didn’t touch Margaery and Sandor like that. 

One night, after a great show and a casual hang out in Jaime’s hotel room that had ended with Jon, Jaime and Brienne all squished together on the too-small sofa, Brienne had called Ellaria. Ellaria had experience with men and with women and with all the complicated ways their lives intersected, and she didn’t mind a middle of the night phone call.

Brienne had let it all out in a rush, how happy she was and how worried she was about the end, and her confusion about Jaime and Jon’s casual affections and how it set her whole body aflame. 

“Maybe you should write a song about it,” Ellaria had suggested. “That always sets your head on straight.”

“But it doesn’t solve the problem. What if I’m misreading things? What if they…”

“What if they what?” Ellaria pressed. Brienne sighed.

“What if they don’t want me? Also, shouldn’t I pick one?” Brienne felt like she was sailing into unmarked territory, out on a limb whose strength she didn’t trust. Ellaria chuckled warmly.

“It sounds like they do want you, Brie. And there’s nothing wrong with wanting and giving love and affection. Just take it one day at a time.”

Ellaria was right. Brienne had been brave in so many ways — becoming a musician, performing alone, accepting Jon and Jaime’s offer, joining The Kings on tour. She could be brave here, too. 

— 

They’d just come off stage after “Catch on Fire.” The crowd was still roaring, and Jaime took a towel from a roadie, wiping the sweat from his face. 

As he looked for his glass of water, he noticed someone unexpected — Tyrion. He’d joined the band on the first part of the tour, then gone home and stayed in touch with phone calls. He wasn’t supposed to be here, in this broken down Pyke venue. 

“Tyrion,” he said, wrapping his brother in a sweaty hug. “Is everything OK?” He had to yell over the crowd.

“I wanted to tell you all in person!” Tyrion shouted back. “‘Catch On Fire’ is the number one song in the country!” Margaery screamed. They all did. Jaime threw his towel in the air. 

“We should go tell this crowd, and then do it again,” he said. Jon looked almost offended.

“We just did ‘Catch on Fire,’” Jon argued. Their usual encore song was a cover of Dayne and the Eel Street Band’s “Meant To Be Free.”

“Yeah but when we tell them it’s the biggest song in the country, they’ll want to hear it again.”

So the band went back out, and Jaime told the crowd the news, and they lost their minds. By the end of the song, Jaime wasn’t sure if his face was wet with sweat or with tears, the crowd giving back all the love they sent out. 

It set the tone for the rest of the night. The band, Brienne, Tyrion, and most of the tour crew all went to the crappy bar attached to the dumpy hotel Tyrion had put them up in. The hotel had even messed up the rooms, leaving Margaery and Brienne and Jon and Sandor to room together. But tonight, this crappy bar was more special to Jaime than the Red Keep would have been.

Jaime only had a single drink, and he didn’t notice Brienne and Jon imbibing that much, either. No, they were just high on happiness and success and friendship and the spark between them that Jaime could feel light up the room.

Well, maybe it lit up the room too brightly, because Sandor and Margaery both got a little annoyed at their shenanigans pretty quickly. Jaime couldn’t quite blame them, but it wasn’t every day that your song became the number one song in the country for the first time. He spent all his change in the jukebox, blasting song after song and yelling the lyrics in everyone’s faces. He jumped on the bar to dance, and got Brienne and Jon to join him. The roadies cheered them on as they spun and yelled and sang. 

But eventually the hour grew very late — or rather, extremely early — and they were the only three people left in the bar, plus one angry looking bartender. Jaime left an exorbitant tip, and they left together, still loud and obnoxious as they made their way to the floor with all their rooms. Everything felt light and easy and Jaime wanted the night to never end.

Brienne bid them both goodbye outside her room and unlocked the door — but it wouldn’t open. She shoved it, but it didn’t move.

“Margaery deadbolted it!” Jon went to check his room with Sandor, and found the same problem.

“They locked us out,” Jon said with a pout that Jaime found hilarious.

“No problem, we’ll share Jaime’s room,” Brienne said immediately, grabbing their arms to drag them away. 

“But there’s only one bed,” Jaime said quickly. He felt sweaty, all of a sudden. Brienne. Jon. Brienne and Jon. In his hotel room. Every fantasy he’d ever had of this — and fuck it, there were many — came rushing back all at once. But there wasn’t another solution.

Brienne reached into Jaime’s back pocket for the key to his room, an act so intimate he could already feel himself getting hard.  _ Fuck. _ She retrieved the prize and opened the door. Jaime hit the lights as they entered the room. 

“Oh,” Brienne said, her voice quieter. “There’s only one bed,” she echoed. “I thought there’d be a sofa.” 

“There’s not,” Jaime confirmed. It was a pretty big bed, at least.

“I can sleep on the floor,” Jon offered. Typical.

“No, that’s silly,” Brienne said. “It’s a big bed. We’ll be fine.” She breathed in, like she was stealing herself. “I’m going to go wash up.” She kicked off her sneakers and walked to the bathroom.

Jaime busied himself by checking the closet for more pillows and blankets. He threw them on the bed. Meanwhile, Jon had stripped down to his underwear. Jaime’s jaw dropped.

Jon, thankfully, was busy setting his things on the dresser and didn’t notice. But it felt explicit, seeing the strong lines of his back, the tension in his arms, the muscles of his legs. 

Brienne came out of the bathroom then and Jaime slipped inside, trying to get away from the double problem that was forming in his bedroom. He took the long, floral scarf out of his hair, and used it to wipe the sweat from his brow. He found a hair tie in the pocket of his satin trousers and pulled his curls into a bun. He left his shirt on the back of the door. Normally he’d shower after a show, but he didn’t want to make Jon and Brienne wait. 

He washed quickly with cloth and soap and left his trousers on the floor in the corner. Then he braced himself, and went back into his room. Jon claimed the bathroom before Jaime could even shut the door.

Brienne was sitting on the bed, her cheeks red, wearing just her muscle tank and her underwear. The long lines of her legs were spread out on top of the comforter. Jaime couldn’t figure out where to look. He suddenly remembered that he was shirtless, and crossed his arms over his chest. But then he remembered that his own briefs — covered in silly little flowers — left little to the imagination, too. 

Brienne seemed to have missed Jaime’s turmoil, instead staring at the hotel room’s terrible, bland art work. Jaime took another deep breath, then walked over to the bed and climbed in next to Brienne. He was a fucking  _ rock star _ . He could handle a girl he desperately wanted being mostly naked in his bed.

He leaned back against the pillows and faked nonchalance. He turned toward Brienne, who still wasn’t looking at him.

“You should come closer,” he said. Brienne snapped her eyes to his. “So there’s room for Jon,” he added. Brienne considered him a moment, then shifted closer. Her leg pressed lightly against Jaime’s. He felt sweaty and hoped she didn’t notice.

“Great show tonight,” he said. He rolled over on his right side to get a better look at her. She rolled onto her left.

“Yeah,” she said. “It just makes me a little sad.” She must have read Jaime’s confusion on his face, adding: “The tour’s almost over. And then we won’t...I won’t...I’ll have to go away.”

“No,” Jaime said, not even thinking. “You won’t. Brienne, you can’t think that we — that I — that you. That you’re not wanted.”

Brienne got even redder, her eyes boring into Jaime’s. Slowly, he moved his left foot until he was touching Brienne’s ankle with the tip of his toes. She didn’t move hers away, so he took his left hand and brought it to her elbow, his fingers dancing on the skin. Her leg moved closer to his, their knees touching now. 

“I am?” she asked, so softly.  _ Brienne. _ On stage, she was an unstoppable force, an unquenchable fire. Here, she was a woman, so delicate and open.

“You are,” he echoed, just as quietly. His hand rose to her forehead, and he pushed some hair out of her face.“Would it be alright if I kissed you?”

Brienne’s head nodded the tiniest bit, almost imperceptible, so Jaime closed his eyes and met his lips to hers.

For a moment, Jaime felt like a teenager, finally getting to kiss the girl of his dreams. She felt so special and impossibly tender. 

But Brienne always caught him off guard. She slid her arms around his waist, sandwiched her leg between his, and then flipped them over, so that she was on top, pressing him into the mattress. Jaime sighed against her mouth, feeling the length of her against his body. He assumed she could also feel  _ his _ length where her own hips were grinding against his own. She ran her fingers up and down his rib cage, rained kisses of his jaw, and was humming something gentle and sweet. Jaime wanted to stay like this forever, and he also wanted to be inside her as quickly as possible. The possibilities were dizzying.

Just then, they heard the door to the bathroom open, and they both instantly froze.  _ Jon. _ Fuck fuck fuck. He cleared his throat.

“Err, I can leave you two alone…” Jaime didn’t know how to interpret his tone.

Brienne looked at Jaime. Jaime looked at Brienne. She raised her eyebrows. He nodded.

She rolled off Jaime and sat up on the edge of the bed. Jaime followed. 

Brienne held out a hand to Jon. Brave, brilliant, perfect Brienne.

“Come join us.”

—

Brienne waited. Has she reached for too much? Her hand hovered in the air as Jon considered her, his arms crossed. His eyes moved to Jaime, but Brienne didn’t dare turn to see what look was on his face. 

And then Jon took her hand and she led him on to the center of the bed. 

They knelt there, facing each other. Jon put his hand on Brienne’s face, almost reverently cupping her chin in his palm. She closed her eyes and Jon pressed his lips to hers, slow and steady. Kissing Jaime had felt like holding a sparkler — it was bubbly and fun and a little scary. Kissing Jon was like curling up next to a warm fire, steady and sure. 

Then Jaime came up behind her and wrapped his hands around her waist, his back pressing against her. She felt his erection against the curve of her ass and pressed back. He sighed. 

Brienne pulled back from Jon and looked down at him. He smiled, sweet as always. She had to stifle her own giggle. She leaned sideways, so that Jaime and Jon were looking at each other straight on. Jon  _ blushed, _ which was distressingly adorable. Brienne pressed a kiss to Jon’s shoulder, where the skin was smooth and warm. She felt Jaime come closer, felt the way men’s bodies shifted around her until they were kissing, too. As smoothly as she could, she slid out of the sandwich of their bodies and sat by the top of the bed, criss cross on a pillow.

They were just so beautiful. Jaime’s hair was falling out of the haphazard bun he’d tied, and Jon’s fingers played with the strays. Jaime’s hands were around Jon’s hips, dipping lower to squeeze his ass. They were perfect.

They turned in unison to look at Brienne. 

“Come back here,” Jaime said, reaching for her. She grabbed the bottom of her tank top and pulled it over her head. The pair of them stared at her for a moment, their hungry eyes skimming her body. Brienne had had one boyfriend, a few years ago, and he had twice complained about how small her breasts were. Jon and Jaime did not look like they wanted to complain.

Emboldened, she climbed off the bed and stripped off her underwear, Jaime and Jon still watching her. She crawled back on to the bed, and they opened their arms to her, bringing her into their embrace.

Brienne maybe expected things to move quickly from there, but if anything they all slowed down. They stretched out on the comforter, hands groping, lips tasting. Jon explored the topography of Brienne’s chest while she kissed Jaime’s neck. Jaime stroked Jon, who let out the most perfect little sighs, with one hand, while his other traced patterns on Brienne’s hip, slowly reaching toward her center. Brienne kissed her way down Jon’s chest while he and Jaime kissed above her, the noises coming from them more explicit than she ever could have imagined. Jaime kissed his way up Brienne’s legs as Jon kissed his way down her torso, and Brienne couldn’t form a single coherent thought, let alone speak one out loud.

Eventually Jaime and Jon met in the middle, each of them kissing one of her hips. It was torture. She ran her fingers through their hair, and opened her legs wider.

“Please,” she begged, and they both looked up at her, grinning like twin devils. They would be the ruin of her, if they weren’t the best thing that ever happened to her, and she was pretty sure they were.

Jaime leaned in, his tongue swiping where she was wet and wanting. Jon crawled back up her body and kissed her, his hands reaching to tweak her nipples. Jaime’s tongue traced her clit and Jon moved his mouth to her breast and it was all so much already, these two men watching her every twitch and reacting to her every moan. So quickly it took her by surprise, she was coming, crying out louder than she intended to. 

Jaime laughed as he stroked her legs, carefully tracing the lines of her thighs. “Maybe try to be a little quieter next time,” he said. 

“Oh shut up,” she said, grabbing a pillow and hitting him with it. Jon had rolled on to his back, so Brienne turned her attention to him, planting kisses on his belly and hip bones. Jaime — never one to be outdone — joined her, kissing everything that wasn’t Jon’s hard, thick cock. 

“Now you’re teasing,” Jon gasped. “Do we have condoms?” 

“I’m a rockstar, of course there are condoms in my hotel room,” Jaime said. He jumped off the bed and lunged for the bedside table. He took a moment to scrounge around in the drawers, then triumphantly held up condoms and a bottle of lube. Then his face changed, falling just a little. “Jon, would you…” Jaime’s voice was small. He lifted his eyebrows. “Fuck me?” 

Brienne thought that question had never been quite so sweet. 

“Umm, yeah,” Jon said. He reached out and took the condoms from Jaime. “Do you want us to help you...get ready?” 

Jaime nodded and knelt on the bed. Brienne kissed him and lazily stroked his cock while Jon used his fingers and the lube to enter him from behind. Jaime gasped about Brienne’s mouth, his member hard and thick in the palm of her hand. She thought of how Jaime had seemed when they first met: sharp and smirky and a little conceited. That’s not how Jaime was, really: he was kind and caring and soft, if you got close enough to see it. And she was.

“OK,” Jaime said with a sigh. “Jon, lay down again.” Jon obliged, laying back with his head on the pillows. His cock pointed straight in the air, covered by a condom and a copious amount of lube. Brienne let Jaime go, and he straddled Jon. Using his hand, he guided himself on to Jon, emitting the most delicious moan as he sank down. 

“Holy shit,” Jaime said. “This is so much better than I imagined.”

“You imagined?” Jon asked, breathlessly. His hands were on Jaime’s hips, just holding him. Jaime nodded fiercely. Slowly, he began to ride, gradually picking up the pace. Brienne was transfixed. 

Jon called her over. “Come sit up here,” he said in between his own moans, freeing his hands to tap either side of his head.

“Are you sure?” she asked. She’d never been so wet in her life, but she didn’t want to crush Jon, either. 

“Yes,” he hissed, and she obliged. She swung her leg over his head and his hands guided her on to his face. She closed her eyes as he gave the most delicious lick, and she pressed down to ride on his face. She was already on the edge, and he’d only just begun.

She locked eyes with Jaime, who was still going. He was so wrecked, his hair flying every which way, his chest covered in sweat. Brienne leaned forward to kiss him, reveling in the heat of his body and the way his muscles shifted beneath her hands. She cried out again as Jon used his fingers to stroke her. 

“Brienne,” Jaime gasped into her mouth. “You’re so perfect.”

She shook her head and leaned back for a second, trying not to lose her balance on her knees. 

“You are,” Jaime repeated. Brienne grabbed his cock again, stroking it as he increased his pace. Brienne didn’t think she’d ever forget the sound of his thighs slapping against Jon’s. “You’re both just…” He broke off then, crying out as he came. He spilled on Brienne’s hand and stomach, but she didn’t mind at all. She cried out, too, as Jon took her over the edge again. 

Carefully, she climbed off Jon, then laid, boneless, on the comforter. Jaime joined her, then Jon. They stayed there for long moments, their breathing finally slowing down.

“Wow,” Jon said at least.

“Yeah, wow,” Jaime said. He pressed a kiss to Brienne’s hairline. “It’s a good thing we’re keeping you around.”

“We should go wash – wait, what?” Had Brienne heard him correctly? Jon laughed.

“Jaime and I were going to ask if you wanted to be a part of The Kings. Permanently,” Jon said. His fingers ghosted Brienne’s hip. “Jaime’s sense of timing remains impeccable.”

Brienne didn’t care. “You want me to join the band?” she asked. 

“Yes,” they said in unison, and Brienne’s wild heart knew it finally had a place to rest.


End file.
